


The Tartan And The Dance

by Perfica



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Drama, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-20
Updated: 2004-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perfica/pseuds/Perfica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pippin shows that he's more than just a pretty face and Merry gets turned on by a bit of material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tartan And The Dance

Merry walked into Tookborough Hall and nabbed a drink off a passing waiter's tray. After taking a sip and admiring the excellent vintage, he leant against a wall to observe.

The Hall was splendid; masses of colour, texture and scent envelop the laughing hobbit's bodies as they talked, laughed, mingled, drank and nibbled tiny pastries. Chandeliers hung low and shiny; faceted light reflected from the hundreds of candles perched atop warm walnut tables. At the side, a small orchestra played their instruments slow, the low thud of a drum counterpointing the stringed beat. The room was awash with the special fabric particular to the region. It was called tartan, and it allowed the genealogically-obsessed hobbits to identify familial connections at fifty paces. The women had splashes of plaid pinned onto their ball gowns, accessorising their silks and flowers. The male hobbits as one; young and old, were swathed in the patchwork colours of their particular clans. Bright reds, forest greens, royal blues, amber yellows - the mix of colours should turn the eye away in disgust, but the checks and patterns melded into a pleasant wash of tone.

Merry scanned the room looking for the guest of honour. Pearl's coming-of-age ball looked to be the event of the season. The Thain certainly knew how to throw a party! The Took family had been aristocrats for centuries, their wealth and breeding sat easily on their shoulders, and Paladin Took the Second was not one to be subtle when it came to occasions of worth. The best cutlery, the best musicians, the best food and drink, nothing was too good for his first child's ascension into adulthood.

Merry smiled thoughtfully, everyone always assumed that Brandy hall was a sight to see in full swing, but it was nothing compared to the affluence and breeding that exuded from the upper-class hobbits as they paraded around the room, looking for people to talk to and talk about. Merry knew that as the future Master of Buckland, he would be in a position of greatness; great in affluence and great in responsibility to the people under his care. But that did not compare to the duty of being Thain, the figurehead of the King in the entire Shire. That pleasure rested on the shoulders of the only male in the Took line; his younger cousin Peregrin.

Merry's eyes continued to scan the room. He had already spotted Pearl, sitting in the seat of honour at the head table, surrounded by well-wishers. Her two younger sisters sat close by, chatting and laughing with the rest of the hobbits. The only sibling that was left to find was Pippin. Pip had just turned 18 and, while that was not an age that occasioned special celebration, it was seen as the beginning of the end for tweenagehood as one gradually assumed the mantle of duties one gained when one turned thirty-three. At twenty-six years old, Merry was feeling the recklessness of childhood slip. His father had always insisted that his only child be a full and active member of the Brandybuck region. Whilst Merry was as educated as the next rich hobbit, he had also been balanced with a good working knowledge of farming, industry, politics and guardianship. But he was not ready to be completely mature. On the occasions of visiting his numerous relatives, he could always count on his cousin to get them into mischief.

A hand suddenly clapped to his shoulder. Merry turned to find the smiling face of his cousin Frodo and, slightly behind him and to the left, the shy countenance of Frodo's gardener and closest friend, Sam. "Frodo!" he exclaimed and hugged him roughly. Frodo returned the hug with equal gusto. They had lived together briefly at Brandy Hall before Frodo went away to live and accept his inheritance of Bag End, thus they did not see each other as often as they wished to anymore.

"Surprised to see me?" Frodo laughed as Sam shook Merry's hand warmly.

"I hoped you'd come, but hadn't heard anything definitely. You're looking well, Frodo. And you too, Sam. I'm surprised that Frodo managed to convince you to leave the garden alone for a few days."

"Well, Mister Frodo told me I deserved a break. But I think he just bought me along to keep an eye on him in case he gets rowdy," Sam chuckled.

Frodo snorted. "You know you didn't have to come, I'm sure I could have survived a few days without you, Samwise Gamgee. Actually," Frodo mock whispered to Merry, "I was afraid to leave him at Bag End by himself. No doubt he'd be so depressed at living by himself he'd take to drinking hard liquor and crying into his flowers."

"So how is the arrangement going then?" Merry enquired. "I know there's plenty of room at Bag End, but have you both managed to sort out who's in charge now that's it's only the two of you?"

"Yes, we sorted that out quick smart," Frodo replied, gazing into Sam's eyes. "In all matters of importance at Bag End, Sam is the master."

Sam blushed and lowered his eyes, his hand gently tugging on Frodo's sleeve. Merry felt like an intruder watching them interact and listening to them speak. It was plain that, regardless of what was occurring in that large smial, both hobbits were well pleased with the arrangement. Frodo gave a quick squeeze to Sam's hand and broke eye contact regrettably. "So, have you wished Pearl well?"

"Actually, no," Merry replied, looking back to the main table. Pearl still sat in state, but there was no sign of her siblings. "I was going over there now to congratulate her and see if she has my mathom. Have you seen Pippin by any chance? I've been looking for him but so far, no sign of the young rascal."

"We did, sir," Sam said, "over near the front door as we came in. He near knocked us over when he saw Mister Frodo here. Said he had to get something ready for a special presentation he was doing for Miss Pearl."

"Oh oh," Merry said. "That doesn't sound promising."

"What's the worst that can happen, Merry?" Frodo laughed. He stopped suddenly, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to even think about it."

"I'd best be on the lookout for him then," Merry sighed. "Save me a seat at your table, Frodo, I'll come find you after I've spoken to Pearl."

"Good luck, Merry," Frodo said sympathetically. Frodo knew the trouble that Pippin could get into without any help, but also knew that Merry was often caught in the same predicament; regardless of whether or not he was trying to assist or stop the tragedy from happening. "Would you like to get us some drinks, Mister Gamgee, while I find us a table?" Frodo asked, squeezing Sam's shoulder.

"With pleasure, Mister Frodo, two pints of ale it is," Sam rejoined, laughing and making his way to the temporary bar set up in the far corner.

Frodo watched Sam move away and turned back to Merry with a hazy smile. Merry said truthfully, "You look wonderful, Frodo, really happy."

"I am, Merry, the happiest I've been in my entire life. Remind me to tell you about it soon." Frodo gave Merry a quick hug and entered the fray again, searching for an empty spot.

Merry made his way behind his cousin Pearl and, miming to the hobbits surrounding her, quickly covered her eyes with his hands. She shrieked and attempted to remove them. Merry laughed and tickled her neck. "Merry!" she squealed, twisting out of the way. "Stop being so silly, I'm an adult now."

Merry dropped a quick kiss to the top of her head and sat next to her. "Don't give me that nonsense, it'll fool some hobbits but not me. Happy birthday, Pearl, I hope you get everything you wish for."

Pearl's eyes gleamed as she softly pecked Merry's cheek. "Thank you darling, I'm glad you're here. Have you caught up with Frodo?"

"Yes, I was just speaking to him. He said he'd bumped into Pippin near the door. Pip's got something planned, Pearl," he said warningly.

"I know," she sighed, "and no matter how much we harassed him to tell us, for once in his life he's managing to keep it secret. I hope it doesn't have anything to do with my cake!"

Merry snorted. "You'll be lucky if there's any cake left if he finds it first. I'll keep an eye out for him, but if you see him, tell him I'm looking for him and I'll be sitting with Frodo and Sam. Dance with me later?"

"Of course, you silly-billy," she said, covering his hands with hers.

Merry grabbed four empty glasses and a bottle of wine from the bar and made his way to Frodo's table. Luckily, there had been a tiny nook near the band that everyone else had seemed to ignore. Frodo and Sam were sitting next to each other with their backs to the wall; shoulders touching as they watched the sway of people pass them by. Merry plonked the wine and glasses on the table, pulled out a chair and sat heavily in it. He poured himself a glass and looked agitatedly around the room.

"Don't worry so much, Merry," Frodo laughed, "I'm sure Pippin realises what an important night this is. He won't muck it up deliberately."

"Unfortunately, Mister Pippin has a habit of making trouble without meaning to," Sam spoke, lowering his empty mug onto the table. Neither Frodo nor Merry answered him, they both silently agreed with Sam's opinion.

"I just wish I could have seen him already," Merry sighed. "I could have got him to tell me what he was planning on doing, then distracted him for long enough so he'd forget."

"You care for him a lot, don't you, Merry," Frodo asked.

"Of course I do," Merry said huffily. "He's my cousin, and he's younger than me and...well, people seem to think he likes mucking things up but he really has a kind heart. He doesn't want to cause trouble, and I don't like to see him getting told off for cruelty or stupidity when he's neither of those things."

"We know he's not cruel or stupid, dear Merry," Frodo said soothingly, "and since we love him the most, ours is the only opinion that counts. But I wouldn't go around calling him young if I were you, he doesn't like it. And from seeing him before, he doesn't look it. He's grown up, Merry and he's old enough to take responsibility for all his actions, regardless of whether we approve of them or not."

"Well, I'll still look out for him," Merry mumbled, taking a swig of his wine. Merry knew in his head that Pippin was no longer a child, but his heart still saw the baby he had held in his arms when he was seven years old. There had never been a time when the two of them were together that Merry did not keep an eye out for his young cousin; be it making sure he had enough food to satisfy his prodigious appetite or rocking him to sleep when he woke from nightmares and only 'his Merry' would do. It was hard to reconcile the image of a bow-mouthed, chubby-limbed baby to the one he knew he should have now.

"Something's about to happen," Sam said. He was right, the crowd seemed to drift to the side and the music had died off. Merry saw Pearl and her sisters sit up at the main table and their parents took their place next to them. There was still no sign of Pippin.

When quiet had descended on the room, the Thain stood, clearing his throat. He held his hands up and said, "My dear family and friends, I'd like to thank you for joining us tonight. This evening, my darling wife and I have the pleasure of introducing you to our first-born child who has just come of age. Miss Pearl Took."

He gestured to Pearl, who stood up, curtsied gracefully and sat down again. "Now that we've had the dancing and food, which I know you are all enjoyed immensely," the crowd tittered, "I have a special surprise. Our son Peregrin has informed us that he has something he'd like to do in honour of Pearl's thirty-third birthday. Now I don't exactly know what it is," the crowd chuckled again, "but he assured Eglantine and I that we'd enjoy it. Now all of you know Pip as well as his family do and we can at least say, if we don't enjoy it, we'll remember it." Paladin laughed out loud at this statement. "So my, dear," he said, looking at Pearl, "are you ready for your brother's surprise?"

Pearl nodded.

"Then let it begin!"

Three servants made their way to the centre of the ballroom floor, moving quickly and lighting thick candles in a large circle. They worked silently and with purpose, so it was obvious they were following instructions. When the room had hushed, the orchestra began to play.

It was a tune no one had heard before. The stringed instruments played melodically, bows mournfully pulled across taunt wire. The wind instruments eased their way into the tune, sighing and whispering an underlining discord. A figure walked silently to the circle of light.

Pippin stood surrounded by candles. He was motionless, eyes staring directly ahead. His upper body was swathed in a heavy cream shirt, the sleeves billowed at the cuffs and the material stretched tightly around his shoulders. At his chest, the brown cords that were usually entwined hung limp, his collar falling loosely to either side bearing a throat and chest that appeared as milky and smooth as the shirt. His lower torso was wrapped in the tartan of the Took; emerald green, cream and maroon checks. The fabric hung low on his hips, hem swaying just above his knees. Pippin also wore a thick leather belt with a pouch attached to the front. It hung directly over his manhood.

The crowd were mesmerised. After the few initial gasps and hums that had sounded at his stealthy appearance, everyone settled back silently into their seats. Merry was stupefied, his mouth hung open as he not only watched his cousin, but observed the faces of those around him. Frodo's eyes were wide open and Sam had contented grin on his face. The Thain and his wife looked pleasantly surprised, they appeared to know what was going to happen. Pimpernel and Pervinca giggled noiselessly into their palms while Pearl gazed sweetly on her young brother. Whatever Merry had been expecting, it had not been this.

His attention was drawn back to Pippin as movement caught the side of his vision. Pippin lifted his right arm and held aloft a sword. His left hand slowly drew the shining metal out of the scabbard and a sharp sound sang as the two were separated. He placed them on the floor, sword lying at right angles atop the scabbard and stepped back.

The music stopped. A heavy silence engulfed in the room. Pippin's chest moved with deep and slow breaths. His green eyes shone seriously as he regarded the weapon at his feet. Merry felt the silence build intolerably, he felt sweaty and awkward. His breathing increased, light and fluttery until it seemed he would not be able to draw enough oxygen into his lungs to support his body. "If this doesn't end soon, I'm going to scream," he thought.

Without warning a loud thud sounded. The drummer waited a beat, pulled his mallet back and hit the centre of the skin with force again. A third time, a fourth. The beats seem to build into a crescendo. Merry stopped a moan that had nearly escaped his body by biting on his lower lip.

The entire room was tense, waiting for a release that was too long coming. Pippin stood as still as a statue, his eyes never wandering. Merry wondered what he was looking at.

Strings screeched suddenly. The other musicians took that to be their cue and resumed playing. The melody was the same as had been played before, but its tempo had increased. The musicians whipped around their instruments, plucking and blowing and strumming with passion. The tempo pitched again, the low thud of the drum a heartbeat beneath the music.

Pippin began to move. At first he was refined, his steps light and noiseless as he leaped over and around the sword. His feet landed gracefully between the metal, his arms arched and rigid above his serious face. As he moved, the kilt swung gently from side to side, never revealing more of his body then below his knees.

Merry knew of this dance, but had never seen it performed in his lifetime. In the dim past, hobbits had found it necessary to arm themselves against intruders. Older warriors instructed young hobbits in the art of warfare and the maintenance of its machines. Part of that training necessitated the learning of the dance. This dance told the story of past battles; both victorious and tragic. Young hobbits gained an appreciation of their battling history and older hobbits ensured that their gifts were passed on to a worthy descendant. In the peaceful times since, the dance had become a pleasant memory and was not practiced. Merry realised that Pippin must have found a hobbit who not only remembered the steps, but felt him appropriate to teach them to. He quickly scanned the room again, the crowd were still entranced.

As the tempo became quicker and quicker, Pippin's feet moved in rapidity. His steps became wider and more forceful, his kilt and shirt being flung in his exertions. Merry could see a thin line of sweat had appeared on Pippin's top lip, the hair near his temples darkening as he pushed himself harder. Merry began to pant, his chest moving with each dull thud of Pippin's feet as they slapped onto the wooden floor. The music reached its climax, noise and notes fighting each other to be heard. Pippin's eyes snapped open in concentration as his hands finally moved from their upright position, sleeves and arms whirling as he spun around the sword, feet never more than a step away from the sharp blade. His body twisted aggressively, his curls flinging from his face as he moved to battle the sound. Just as Merry believed he would not be able to take anymore, the drum pulsated a quick beat, one note laying on the other, booming and vibrating the room. Pippin's body contorted, pale limbs flailing as he heard the music and responded to it. The wind instruments hit a keen note, high-pitched and eerie. Pippin jumped his highest yet and landed heavily on the floor, head hanging and body crouched over his now still feet.

A beat of silence, then a rush of sound as the entire room exploded in noise. Cheering and applause increased in volume, hands pounded on tables in pleasure. Pippin stood up shakily, his sweat-drenched curls hanging onto his face. He was breathing heavily but had a satisfied smile on his face. Some hobbits closest to the circle of candles breached the light and picked Pippin up, holding him high above their heads as they paraded him to the main table. Pippin's eyes searched around the room. He met Merry's bewildered stare and for a moment did not smile. They looked at each other unblinkingly, until Pippin broke the mood by grinning cheekily at him. Before Merry could respond, Pippin was carried out of his line of sight.

"That was incredible," Sam garbled, eyes shining. "I didn't know that Mister Pippin could dance like that!"

"Neither did I," Frodo replied, still slightly astounded by what he had seen. "Did you know he could do that, Merry?"

Merry shook his head silently. It appeared that there were things about his young Pip that he was unaware of. He shook his head as he realised Frodo had been speaking to him.

"I asked if you were going to bed, Merry. I'm getting a bit tired so I think I'll turn in."

"No," Merry replied, his eyes searching for Pippin amongst a crush of admirers. He saw Pearl fling her arms around him, smacking him wetly on each cheek. His mother leant in for a more elegant peek, while the Thain clasped his hand and pumped it strongly, a wide grin on his face.

"No," Merry repeated, more forcefully this time. "I'm...I might see if I can say hello to Pip before I go. To congratulate him on his dance."

"Ah," Frodo said knowingly, elbowing Sam in the stomach lightly. "Seems Merry's realised his young cousin is not so young anymore. Surprised, Merry?"

"No," Merry said hesitantly, "not really surprised. I knew it had to happen one day, I just didn't know he'd...be like this. I always thought no matter how old he was, I'd still see him as little Pippin. But he's not so little anymore."

Sam chuckled and said, "It's like plants, Mister Merry, sir. One day they're a seed and you can't see how they'll be anything else. Then all of a sudden you turn around and there it is - perfectly formed and complete. It's going to be hard to unsee what you just saw."

"I don't think I want to," Merry murmured.

"Well, Sam, I'm off to bed. Will you be able to find your way back to your room later?" Frodo asked teasingly.

"As you already know, sir, because you made me do it, I'll be staying in your room tonight. I've got my kit ready to sleep on the floor," Sam added quickly to Merry.

"Sleeping on the floor when there's plenty of room in that comfortable bed I'll be staying in?" Frodo said, sneakily stroking Sam's leg. Sam jumped in his seat and scowled at Frodo. Frodo continued smiling and continued stroking. Merry was unaware of their interaction, he looked back to the main table but could not see Pippin. Frodo laughed and stood up, Sam shadowing his movement.

"We're off to bed, Merry-dear. If you're looking for us tomorrow, no doubt we'll still be in our chambers. I think I'll need a good lie-in, I'm feeling quite sleepy. I don't expect I'll leave bed until - what do you think Sam, second breakfast?"

Sam muttered under his breath, gripped Frodo's elbow and directed him around the table. "Night, Mister Merry," he threw over his shoulder.

Merry made his way between the celebrating hobbits, searching for Pippin who was nowhere to be seen. After questioning a few that looked slightly sober, he gathered that, after Pippin had received his congratulations from his family and friends, he'd retired to his room. Merry snagged an unopened bottle of wine from the bar and made his way through the smial.

The hallways were empty, the majority of visitors still enjoying the music and feast below. Merry stood in front of Pippin's closed door, bottle swinging loosely from one hand. He wondered if he should knock and then shook his head. He'd never knocked before and he wasn't going to start now. He found that he was unexpectedly nervous and didn't understand why. This was Pip after all, Pip who'd he'd known in the womb. Merry had never experienced this thin sliver of embarrassment around his cousin before. "Bugger this," he muttered and opened the door.

Pippin was standing by his bed, a wet cloth pressed against his bare chest. His shirt was slung messily on a nearby chair. Merry looked at the kilt hanging low on his hips, the skin around his stomach looked softer than usual. He quickly looked up to see Pippin gleaming eyes and corkscrew grin staring at him. "Can I help you with something?" he asked mockingly.

Merry didn't dare breath or move. After nearly a minute had passed by, Pippin seemed to come to a decision, nodded his head and said, "Well close the door you daft fool. I'll catch a cold." Merry nodded wordlessly and closed the door softly. Pippin remained still, cloth motionless on his chest. Merry watched a drop of liquid free itself from the cloth and ooze its way down Pippin's chest, swerving down his stomach until it got lost in the waist of the kilt. He let out a sigh. Pippin blinked at the sound and gestured Merry to the chair. "Sit," he commanded.

Merry placed the wine bottle on the floor next to him and picked up Pippin's shirt. It felt moist in his hands and he could smell Pippin's scent exuding from the heavy fabric; sweat and pine and sugar. He resisted the temptation to bury his face in it and sat down low and heavy in the chair, shirt crumpled in his hand, legs stretched out.

Pippin looked at his reclining cousin and asked, "Aren't you going to open that?" gesturing to the bottle. He continue to towel down as Merry stared at his hands moving up and down his chest, then leaned over and groped for the bottle blindly. He opened the wine and held it out to Pippin to drink. Pippin took the bottle from his hands and took a long swallow, his green eyes never leaving Merry's golden ones. As he removed the bottle from his lips, a small amount dribbled from the side of his mouth, running down his chin and onto his chest. Merry watched as the red bead lazed down Pippin's chest.

"Well, Merry, aren't you going to help me clean up?" Pippin asked huskily, holding out his hand that clutched the cloth. Merry saw the challenge and his eyes sharpened. Pippin's eyes clouded with need. Merry stood up slowly, took the bottle from Pippin's hand and placed it on the floor. He took the cloth from Pippin's outstretched hand and threw it over his shoulder. He stepped in closer to his cousin, breath mingling as the heat from the bodies mixed and melded. Pippin's breath quickened and he shivered. Merry placed his hands on Pippin's waist and bent down. Pippin gasped as Merry's warm tongue pressed against his navel, worming the indent. Merry slowly licked up Pippin's stomach, tongue tracing the track of wine. His fingers squeezed Pippin's side as he reached his chest, slowly licking from side to side, nearing but never reaching his stiff nipples. Pippin dug his fingers into Merry's hair as Merry nuzzled the side of his neck, licking sweat and soap aside. Merry pulled Pippin closer to his body, hands reaching past waist until they were moulded onto his arse. Pippin wiggled in closer, his stiffness apparent under the thick kilt. Merry gasped as their erections bumped, and, leaving the soft warmth of Pippin's neck, dove into the pink mouth he had been staring at all night.

Their tongues became entwined, mouths wet and heavily open as they licked and rubbed each other's lips. Merry's hands scrunched up Pippin's kilt and he groaned when he felt the bare cheeks clench under him. "You're overdressed," Pippin growled as he ground his dick into Merry's. Merry ground back just as hard, cocks thrusting and parrying through clothe. Merry knew he could not take much more of this. "I want to see if you taste as good as you dance," he whispered as he knelt in front of Pippin.

He looked up and saw Pippin's rounded stomach and heaving chest, sweaty with exertion again. Pippin looked at Merry with an animalistic grin. "Do it, Merry!" he implored. Merry ran his hands up from Pippin's calves to the back of his thighs, lifting the kilt aside. The hard object of his desire was in front of him and he groaned with desire. His mouth enveloped the wet heat and he groaned against the taunt flesh, tasting the muskiness that was uniquely Pippin. "Love you, Merry, love you," he heard Pippin whisper as he made love to his body.

There was no finesse in their lovemaking that night. Tongues and fluid were swapped until daylight as they learnt the planes and thrusts of each other's bodies. Moans and cries intermingled with endearments, as they loved each other with their hands and their mouths and their eyes. When daylight finally broke through the window, they lay sated in each other's arms, stroking each other's curls and skin, whispering of their want and love, and their happiness that this barrier between them had finally been broken.


End file.
